


The Strangeland

by chezvous



Category: Inception (2010), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Minor Character Death, Non-Chronological, S.H.I.E.L.D. does what it wants, all of the plot with none of the pairings, basically pure self-indulgence, hand-wavy science, thinly-veiled references, trigger warning: suicide in the context of dreamshare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:27:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chezvous/pseuds/chezvous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury introduces Steve to a man named Thor Odinson, who sounds and acts like some kind of Northern European royalty but is actually the heir to Asgard Corp, one of the most powerful developers of alternative energy in the modern world.</p><p>Thor Odinson wants inception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parts I - VI

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherryfeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryfeather/gifts).



> Beta'd by the formidable [accursedspatula](http://archiveofourown.org/users/accursedspatula) and dedicated to [cherryfeather](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryfeather). Based in part on, predictably, [this gifset](http://anniepology.tumblr.com/post/23943676626/i-swear-to-god-steve-i-will-drop-the-pasiv-out).
> 
> Title from Keane's "Strangeland."

**I.**   
  
Steve hears the door to the gym opening, the steady footfalls approaching, can practically feel the unnerving patience of the man as he stands a polite distance away, and he pointedly ignores it, choosing instead to continue pounding away at the same weathered punching bag he’s been practicing with since he first got here.   
  
After a stretch of time:  
  
“Captain Rogers.”  
  
As if on cue, his next punch merely glances over the canvas surface of the bag and he stops, taking a moment to lean against the bag to stop it from swinging.   
  
“Colonel,” He says politely, saluting as he turns, feeling a burn start to replace the adrenaline coursing through his body.  
  
“At ease, Rogers. And it’s Director Fury, now. I’ve been promoted to director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”  
  
Whatever his title, Nick Fury looks equally as intimidating out of his uniform as in. Steve remembers his first day in the unit, standing a full head shorter than the next-shortest soldier as his commanding officer surveyed his men and women for the first time. Even the other commanding officers stayed clear of then-Colonel Fury as he walked down the line, hands clasped behind his back as his single eye roved over their individual faces, each carefully blank as they stared straight ahead.  
  
Steve expected a sneer or some kind of comment about his size as Fury passed, but the man said nothing, only made some kind of small noise in his throat that may or may not have been an amused grunt of approval.  
  
Now Fury wears a trench coat over his turtleneck, all of it black, and Steve can pinpoint at least six places on his body where he could keep concealed firearms. Steve relaxes, stretches out his hands and tries to massage the blood back into them as he steps off the training mat. “What’re you here for?” He asks, more casually than he means. He already has an idea of why Fury is here, and he’s sure it’s not to offer to take him to lunch.  
  
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. When you leave your parents’ address with the military after your very honorable discharge and then decide to move to Detroit without telling us, it makes catching up a little...hard.”  
  
“I just needed to get away, I suppose.” Steve quirks a smile without apologizing, stepping past Fury to grab his towel and wipe it across his brow. “It was nice of you to wait a whole month before hunting me down.”   
  
“My pleasure.” Steve can feel Fury’s eye practically dissecting him, knows he can see the hunch of his shoulders and the desire to not be having this conversation laced through every bone in his body. There is another long moment of silence before a combination of curiosity and resignation begs him to ask the million-dollar question.  
  
“…So why are you here?”  
  
Fury smiles and Steve already knows he’s gotten himself in too deep.   
  
“How would you like to prevent a war?”  
  
  
  
**II.**   
  
Nick enters the tent and addresses his group of soldiers, twenty-five in all. They are all under the age of thirty and most under twenty-five, men and women from diverse backgrounds who have never yet been deployed. They all have determined looks on their faces, eager to please despite the fact that they have been given very little information about why they’re actually here.  
  
“Let me make this clear to you from the very beginning: you have been hand-selected because you are the best. For the past twenty years, the United States military has been developing a system that will allow us to place soldiers in authentic combat scenarios without the threat of actual physical injury. Strategizing off the field will only get you so far. Drills and formations will only get you so far. Despite what they tell you, in the field there is no such thing as standard procedure. Most of you will be asked to partake in highly sensitive and dangerous missions from here on out. Pain and fear of pain will be a deterrent to you. Without experience, your courage will fail you despite what your ego may think. If something goes wrong, cowardice cannot be an option. We believe that we’ve developed the solution to preparing our men and women of the armed forced for combat and we have assigned a group of extraordinary individuals to undergo testing for this new method.”  
  
He pauses, stares down his soldiers for any hint of nervousness before beginning again. “Now, you are not that group of extraordinary individuals.”  
  
Another pause, to let those words sink in. He can sense confusion, though every face remains stubbornly neutral. This bodes well so he continues. “However, the unexpected upside to developing this technology is that we’ve discovered that it's also extremely effective for gathering intelligence. The U.S. government, as I am sure you know, has been criticized for their treatment of war criminals. We have been accused of everything from waterboarding to cutting off limbs and pulling fingernails and while I am not at liberty to say whether or not such claims are true, I can assure you that this interrogation method has been proven effective in its trial cases. Test subjects have willingly given us accurate information in every case so far and on average the interrogation lasts for less than thirty minutes. Subjects do not need to be threatened, either physically or psychologically, and the interrogator remains in absolute control at all times. The results have thus far been extremely promising.”  
  
It sounds too good to be true, and the skepticism in the tent is so heavy he can practically taste it. The only one who doesn’t exude some air of incredulity is the skinny kid standing in the very front. Rogers, he remembers reading in the initial files—tried to enlist every year since he turned eighteen and would have been turned down again this year if he hadn’t met Dr. Abraham Erskine, a scientist who made most of the major developments in the project, on his way out of the recruitment center.  _He has heart_ , wrote Erskine at the bottom of his file,  _He has what it takes, what you are looking for. He will not disappoint you_. Nick hopes he’s right—right now he looks like a slight wind would be enough to knock him over.  
  
“If you doubt the kinds of intel we can gather, consider this: we can find out where hostages in warzones are being kept. We can learn about the precise locations of terrorist strongholds. We can shoot with the means to capture instead of to kill. We can save lives, and we can do it while minimizing risk. We have chosen you because you possess the specific qualities and potential that we are looking for in moving forward with this initiative. If you wish to back out, you should do it now. You can go back to your assigned units, sleep soundly in your beds, and continue to serve our country tomorrow.”  
  
No one moves for a full minute before Nick allows himself a satisfied smile and gestures to the man on the right.  
  
“Glad to hear it. This is Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency that liaisons between us and the Department of Defense. He will be your container for the training period, which begins tomorrow morning at 0600 hours and will last for ten weeks before assignments begin. Everything you witness and do from now on is highly classified. Agent Coulson, if you would.”  
  
Agent Coulson steps forward to lift a heavy black case onto the table. He unlatches it and brings out a smaller, silver case, which he lays on the table and opens without aplomb. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Portable Automatic Somnacin IntraVenous Device. Welcome to dreamsharing.”  
  
  
  
**III.**   
  
Nick Fury introduces Steve to a man named Thor Odinson, who sounds and acts like some kind of Northern European royalty but is actually the heir to Asgard Corp, one of the most powerful developers of alternative energy in the modern world.  
  
Thor Odinson wants inception.  
  
Steve blinks. “Are you—serious?”  
  
That’s the surreal part; Steve can deal with the fact that less than two hours ago he was still in Detroit, or that he is currently sitting in a meeting room on the sixtieth floor of Asgard Corp’s North American headquarters in New York City, separated from a thousand-some-foot plunge by only walls of glass on three sides. But this…this is almost unbelievable.  
  
“I  am serious, Captain Rogers.” Thor’s tone is grave. The man sitting across from him is blond and muscular, not much older than Steve himself, eyes a sharp blue and surrounded by what should be laugh lines but are deepened by stress instead. He is dressed casually in a tee-shirt and flannel shirt—from the little that Fury divulged on the ride over, the situation was dire enough that he left his country with only the clothes on his back. Then again, Steve himself is still in his gym sweats.  
  
Steve turns to Fury, feeling wrong-footed. “Director, you know that’s not actually possible. The joint operation with British intelligence failed on every level—”  
  
“It took.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“One of the British forgers went underground when the U.K. branch of the project disbanded and made a name for himself. I called in a favor and got back in touch, learned that he was part of a team that successfully performed inception about last year.”  
  
“Why haven’t we heard about it?”  
  
“It wasn’t exactly a government-sanctioned venture.”  
  
Unsurprising. Steve knew about the underground networks of mercenary dreamsharers, but he always tried to stay away from them. The reason he agreed to be a part of the program in the first place was for the reasons Fury had stated the day they were initiated. Invading other peoples’ subconscious for personal gain just felt wrong.  
  
“Then can’t you get that team to do it again? I told you when I was discharged that I was leaving it all behind.”  
  
“The extractor has since retired and his point man went underground, as did the forger. We don’t know the identity of the chemist, and the architect is a civilian with no previous record, though S.H.I.E.L.D. has been looking into recruiting her after she finishes her degree. The identity of the man who originally commissioned them is protected by about forty different international sanctions and has politely refused to answer any of our inquiries. Basically, our only option is to start from scratch.”  
  
Steve leans back, crossing his arms in frustration. “You have other extractors still working for the government. You could ask any of them.”  
  
“Mr. Odinson is a man with many resources who has specifically chosen to ask for S.H.I.E.L.D.’s assistance. It’s our belief that his request would benefit the safety of the United States, as well as that of other nations. If the government gets involved, things could get complicated.”  
  
“So what you’re planning isn’t actually legal.”  
  
“The government doesn’t recognize the mission on an official basis because they don’t know it exists. There are only four people in the world who are aware that anything’s wrong, and three of them are sitting in this room. We’d like to keep it that way, which is why the mission is off-the-record and all participants are either decommissioned like yourself, or working freelance. The only one currently keeping tabs on you is me, Rogers.”   
  
“…which makes me the perfect candidate. Of course.”  
  
It’s starting to sound less and less like he has a choice in the matter, but Steve’s four-year contract with the army is over. He signed off on all his paperwork, he returned his PASIV to the government, he hung up his uniform, and he moved to Detroit so he could get a new start, maybe go to art school after he gets his feet back on the ground. The last thing he wants to do any more is dream.  
  
“I see you are still hesitant.” Thor runs a hand across his face, sounding tired from more than just the jetlag; Steve had somehow almost forgotten he was there. “If I may, I would tell you what I am asking for and why we must act immediately and with such discretion.”  
  
What Steve really wants to do is leave, but considering how Fury hustled him out of the gym and almost directly into a waiting helicopter, his wallet is still in his locker, which means that he has no way of getting anywhere that doesn’t involve Fury and while he could walk to his parents’ house, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to outrun said helicopter.  
  
“Alright, let’s hear it.”  
  
  
  
**IV.**   
  
“My father Odin founded Asgard Corp over fifty years ago, when he was still a young man. He was ever looking forward, investing in a future that could sustain itself on renewable energy sources. When my younger brother Loki and I were still children, he began to work on a secret project, something we only knew as Project Pegasus. He said it had the potential to cut dependency on current non-renewable energy usage by over sixty percent a year, perhaps even more if we continued to develop it. Our initial prototype was a battery that could easily produce over one-hundred kilowatt-hours a day, more than enough to power an entire household. With a few more years, it could produce as many as five-hundred-thousand kilowatt-hours a day, enough to sustain the population of a small town. By 2050, we could supply sustainable power to the whole of New York City.  
  
“Last year, my father fell ill and my brother took control of Project Pegasus himself while I attempted to take care of the rest of the company. I was not ready, to say the least, to take on the sheer amount of responsibility and Loki has always been ambitious, so while I was overwhelmed with suddenly being thrust into the position my father had occupied for our entire lives, I did not notice that my brother had plans of his own for the project.  
  
“One night, I chanced upon a correspondence between Loki and the international weapons manufacturer Thanos. Loki was planning on selling him the Project Pegasus prototype in exchange for executive control of a company with the power to rival Asgard. I was furious at this discovery, and we fought viciously; I never thought his desire for power would overcome his love for his family or his loyalty to our company’s vision. The next morning, both Loki and all of the technology borne of the project had disappeared.   
  
“Fortunately, we were able to extract all of the systematic data from the project and lock it down so that Thanos will not be able to access it unless either my father or I personally hand it to him, but Loki now possesses the battery we were developing, which we call the Tesseract. The technology was to remain unpatented until we finished developing it, so at this stage, anyone could complete the Tesseract and call it for their own. More than unravel our company, it would destroy my father’s heart to see his son betray him so. That is why I wish to keep it from him as long as possible.  
  
“Loki is clever, and he is strong-minded. I cannot hope to persuade him to return on my own, so I must seek to protect everything I hold dear by other means. When my sources told me that the United States government had successfully developed dreamsharing where other nations had failed, I knew there could be no better chance.  
  
“Captain Rogers, I need for him to return of his own volition with the Tesseract intact, to forget his thirst for power. I need my brother back.”  
  
  
  
**V.**   
  
“You see the issue we’re facing, Rogers.”  
  
Steve does. From Fury’s tone, he can tell that this is the closest he’ll ever get to out-right asking.  
  
“If Thanos succeeds in acquiring the Tesseract, he will have no use for it himself. It is far more likely he will sell the technology to nations looking to advance their nuclear missile programs.”   
  
They’re sitting on the brink of something dangerous, an international crisis that the world can’t know about. Thor is looking at him with a painful expression, somewhere torn between desperation, worry, and hope and for an instant, Steve feels a pang deep in his gut, the imprint of grief and loss and the willingness to do anything to get that loved one back. There’s nothing he can do for his own situation, but maybe for Thor...  
  
“Alright.” He says. “I’ll do it. When do I start?”  
  
“Now,” says Fury approvingly as he reaches into his coat and pulls out Steve’s wallet.  
  
  
  
**VI.**   
  
Clint Barton is in deep shit. But then again, what’s new, really?  
  
He should have been more careful but a month of no assignments meant a month of loafing around, watching horrible reality television, and an hour at the shooting range every day. Clint thinks it’s a damned shame bows aren’t standard S.H.I.E.L.D. weaponry in the field, but that’s the beauty of dreamsharing. For ten minutes a week (that’s two hours in dream time), he can shoot exploding arrows with his retracting bow at as many flying hybrid robot dinosaurs as his mind can dream up.  
  
Still, everything loses its shine eventually when there’s nothing else to break up the monotony, so he practically jumped on the chance when they captured a HYDRA agent loitering around outside HQ last week.  
  
Practice your extraction skills and infiltrate the mind of a HYDRA agent, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Neo-Nazis, always a hoot.  
  
Well, they didn’t say “fun” so much as they said “useful” and “good practice.” It was just supposed to be a routine sweep, a standard procedure they do on captured drones who, ninety-nine percent of the time, aren’t militarized. Stroll in, pick up information so readily it practically grows on trees, and wake right back up when the timer runs out.  
  
Leave it to Clint to get the one percent of the militarized peons.  
  
He dives and takes cover behind a fallen pillar, a small paper envelope between his teeth, and curses the in-house point man who clearly doesn’t know his head from his ass if he didn’t ID the subject thoroughly enough to know he was militarized before he sent Clint under. There is a reason  he takes point on field missions and not this idiot, who will probably never leave his desk job if Clint has anything to say about it. He can tell a militarized mind from miles away, but of course, that’s if they’re still conscious when he gets there.  
  
A bullet skims over his head, so close he feels it ruffling his hair. Dreaming up an exploding arrow, he calculates the approximate projectile motion of the bullet and without looking behind him, shoots it back at the same angle. Without waiting for the boom, he rips open the envelope and scans the page.  
  
The information isn’t, for the most part, anything he doesn’t already know, though he does pick up on the highlighted words “Zola” and “chemical plant”. He’s not sure how important they’ll be, but they’re worth putting on the report.   
  
Clint checks his watch; five minutes until he’s due to wake up and the rabble in the background is starting to get louder. He’s gotten what he came for, so there’s no reason to stick around. Pulling the shotgun out of the holster on his hip that had not been there five seconds before, he presses the mouth of the barrel against his temple and pulls the trigger.  
  
His plans to immediately chew out the office monkey are derailed when he opens his eyes and sees the terrifying face of Nick Fury looming over him.  
  
“Welcome back, Agent Barton.” He says, mild as a spring day, as Clint hastily rearranges his face into something that’s neither an angry grimace nor a mask of unabashed horror. He steps back and allows Clint to pull the somnacin line out of his arm before he sits up and swings himself out of the pod, cracking his neck and loosening stiff muscles. They’re the only ones in the room now; he can see the the orderlies pushing the still-sedated HYDRA agent back to his cell on the dolly. Seems like his aim was right-on if the agent exited the dream earlier than he did.  
  
“Thanks,” mumbles Clint, leaning over to scribble the words he remembers highlighted in the report on the bottom of the file lying open on the table next to him. “I found something that might be interesting.”  
  
“We’ll look into it,” Fury takes the folder from him and switches it for the identical manila folder he has tucked under his arm, “But for now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. This assignment would benefit from your particular set of skills.”  
  
“Seeing as I’m currently frying minnows, I’ll take pretty much anything.”  
  
Fury chuckles as he hands the new folder over. “Oh, don’t worry, Agent Barton. This one’s a goddamn whale.”  
  
Clint opens the folder and doesn’t even make it past the first heading before he’s letting out a low whistle. “Inception’s a pretty tall order, sir. You sure Rogers is the man for the job? Never worked with the guy personally and I know it says here that his record’s pretty much spotless, but after what happened in Denver...”  
  
“Captain Rogers has assured me that he will retain complete control over the situation. We have the utmost confidence in him; now we’re just looking for movers and shakers.”  
  
Clint flips the page, reads the outline of the plan. The handwriting is cramped and fills up the page from edge to edge, quick and slanted as if the writer’s hand was trying to catch up with the speed of his mind. It’s brilliant, but messy.  
  
Like clockwork, Clint’s mind starts searching out solutions for the problems already leaping out at him from the page. “More manpower. You’re gonna need a forger,” He says. “And an in-field chemist, not to mention a hell of an architect--better than Parker, better than anyone we’ve got at S.H.I.E.L.D. Someone who doesn’t think like S.H.I.E.L.D. If the mark is as smart and detail-oriented as Odinson says he is, everything’s going to have to be perfect. The margin of error has to be less than zero to even get him into the second level.”  
  
“You’re sounding awfully excited there, Agent Barton. Am I taking this as an affirmation?”  
  
“Considering my name is already on the roster, I guess it is.”  
  
“Glad we’re on the same page. Rogers and Agent Romanov are already expecting you in the briefing room.”  
  
As if this day couldn’t get any weirder. “Wait, you got Nat--Agent Romanov? But she’s supposed to be in Taipei until next month at least.”  
  
“Flew in this morning.” Fury makes a noise that sounds like it could have been an aborted laugh as he turns to leave. “I won’t ask how you found out that little fact, but it would be...good if you wouldn’t mention it to anyone else. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about why we’re sending government agents outside the U.S. without receiving a standing invitation.”  
  
To be honest, even the natural curiosity that makes him such an exemplary point man doesn’t merit wanting to know exactly how many pies S.H.I.E.L.D. has got its fingers in. Clint mimes himself zipping his lips shut and follows his boss dutifully out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SLOW AND I REGRET NOTHING

**VII.**   
  
Natasha remembers Steve Rogers. He had been about half a foot shorter and three times skinnier the one brief time they met, but Natasha knows that means nothing in their particular field of work. The man sitting in the briefing room is a mountain, albeit one that’s been lately eroded by the forces of nature.   
  
She read the reports while she was abroad; she knows what happened in Denver. She thinks that she could comfort him, if she were that kind of person.   
  
He greets her with a polite “Hello, ma’am, pleased to meet you” as she enters the room and slides into the seat opposite him. She offers him a half-smile and can see immediately why he was at the top of the list of extractors S.H.I.E.L.D. had to offer before his retirement; Natasha hasn’t met a genuinely nice person in a long time. She’s too used to those who put others at ease for reasons just to lull them into a false sense of security.   
  
“The pleasure’s all mine, Captain Rogers.”   
  
Rogers looks bashful. “Just Steve now, actually. I, ah, recently retired from the military. And dreamsharing.”   
  
Natasha folds her hands on top of the table. “With all due respect, Steve, no one ever really retires from dreamsharing.” Spoken from personal experience, though she will likely never tell him as much. “Would you like to tell me a little more about the situation?” She continues smoothly so as not to prolong the tendency for this first meeting to become full of awkward silences. Natasha never did do well with stagnancy that she didn’t orchestrate herself.   
  
For his part, Rogers looks relieved to have moved on. “First off, I don’t know a lot about Asgard Corp.”   
  
“Our point man will gather any and all information we’ll need on Asgard Corp,” Natasha agrees.   
  
Rogers nods. “I figured, so I’ve been thinking mostly about the relationship between Thor and the mark. From what Thor told me, Loki used to idolize him as a child. It seems like they were very close up until their teenage years, when Odin began to differentiate between Thor as the heir to Asgard Corp and Loki as the second son. I feel like Thor’s presence could be a driving force in this mission and your file indicates that you’re a Forger.”   
  
“That’s correct.”   
  
“Do you have much experience forging men? I-I mean--” Rogers flushes, scrambling to explain himself at Natasha’s blank look. “Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, Ma’am. It’s just that during my time with the military division, female forgers were only taught to forge female marks. I wouldn’t have asked, only...everything else in your S.H.I.E.L.D. file is classified.”   
  
Typical of the military, and yet another reason why she is glad she was drafted directly into S.H.I.E.L.D. Natasha permits him a small smile, just enough to set him at ease again. “I can assure you that my training covered a much wider range of identities than the military division would give credit for. Give me a few days to observe Mr. Odinson and you’ll have your answer.”   
  
“Colonel--er, Director Fury selected you personally for this mission--that’s as good an answer as any for me.”   
  
“Same to you.”   
  
Rogers’ reply is interrupted by Fury striding through the sliding glass doors, visible eye roving over the both of them as if to make sure they hadn’t somehow, against all odds, hated each other on sight. Considering that Rogers looked like the kind of person who would throw himself on a live grenade to save everyone else--and did, according to one report included in Natasha’s initial briefing--it was highly unlikely. Regardless of the names some of the other agents call her behind her back-- that poisonous Black Widow  by far the most popular--Natasha doesn’t strike without a very good reason.   
  
“Director,” She stands, saluting him as Rogers does the same. Clint pops his head out from behind Fury’s trenchcoat, entire face lighting up with glee despite his carefully-schooled neutral expression. At least someone is happy to see her.   
  
“At ease.” Fury steps aside to let Clint through. “I see you two have already made nice. Agent Barton, this is Captain Steve Rogers. Captain Rogers, Agent Clint Barton; he’ll be running point for the team on this initiative.”   
  
Natasha watches the two men shake hands, can see Clint assessing the firmness of Steve’s grip in his mind and deciding that, for now, he approves. Doubtless he’ll be lurking around in the background to observe him more once they begin preparations in earnest, taking note of any potential psychological weaknesses he’ll have to cover.   
  
They don’t have time to exchange any more words as Fury pulls up a few windows on the projector screen.  Steven Grant Rogers - Extractor ,  Clinton Francis Barton - Pointman , and  Natasha Romanov - Forger with accompanying photos of each of them staring seriously into the camera blink onto the first screen, followed by three blank spaces underneath. They read  Architect ,  Chemist , and  S.H.I.E.L.D. Liaison .   
  
Simultaneously, sections of the tabletop open up in front of each of them, revealing small computer screens.   
  
Mission Briefing for: Agent Natasha Romanov  flashes merrily up at her and she presses her index finger onto the recognition pad as Clint and Steve do the same. Digital projections of three new faces fly from their respective screens onto the larger projector screen, each linked up to one of their names.   
  
The face of the mild-faced man in glasses next to her profile is vaguely familiar.  Robert Bruce Banner, PhD; Occupation: Chemist. Affiliation: N/A. Location: New Delhi.  She flips through the tabs on her screen. According to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s records, Dr. Banner received his doctorate in Physical Chemistry and performed research in the Pharmacology department of the CDC before being recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. to develop more advanced and potent sedatives. Then, about two years ago he disappeared at an international pharmaceutical conference concerning the standardization of Somnacin formulas, but the file gives no indication of whether he is guilty of defection or if it was somehow sanctified.   
  
The list of locations S.H.I.E.L.D. has been able to place him in since then--Cleveland, Vancouver, Mombasa, Leipzig, Gothenburg, and Osaka the major cities--is sizable, but he never stays in one place for more than a few months.    
  
A note attached to his records suggests, in a rather friendly and, consequently, unsettling manner, that if Dr. Banner is needed by S.H.I.E.L.D., he should be brought in by whichever means are most convenient as soon as possible as it takes some a few weeks to locate him again if and when he chooses to disappear. It’s not hard to read between the lines; what they want is  persuasion , persuasion of the sort that her specialized skillset includes.   
  
Natasha brings up the next tab, which includes another set of classified instructions that she downloads to her PDA for perusal on the flight over, which departs in exactly half an hour; it’s all standard procedure, which either means they don’t anticipate there being a problem, or they do anticipate there being a problem and just don’t have any suggestions on how to deal with it. It doesn’t matter--she can improvise.   
  
“Your PASIV’s waiting for you on the aircraft,” says Fury as she passes him out the door and on her way to the hanger. “If all goes well, you won’t have to use it.”   
  
Natasha’s not planning on it.

**Author's Note:**

> In many ways, this fic was inevitable because a) _Inception_ is my number one favorite piece of cinema forever and ever and b) I am easily swayed...by myself. I like to say that Liz enabled me, but this actually isn't true because all she said was "ANNIE ANNIE ARE YOU SEEING THIS" and I was like "DON'T MAKE ME WRITE IT OKAY I GUESS I'LL WRITE IT." But regardless, she _is_ the one who first brought the post to my attention so I will willingly give her the credit for this and also dedicate it to her because she is an absolutely wonderful human being and I don't actually need an excuse but want one anyway.
> 
> I believe there's already another fill based on the same gifset, but that our set-ups differ slightly. One of the aspects of _Inception_ that I found most intriguing was Arthur's comment about how dreamshare was developed by the military, so I really took the opportunity to kind of dive into that side of things, especially since the idea of government-sponsored dreamshare is both really amazing and really terrifying. Throw in some S.H.I.E.L.D. shenanigans and a mishmash of other characters and I guess at some point disbelief will have to be suspended.
> 
> I am going to try my darndest to actually finish this because it's actually been outlined pretty thoroughly, but then again, I am also the queen of slow writing and I will be starting my forty-hours-a-week summer internship next week all the way across the country so I'm trying to power through as much as I can before then. Expect periodic re-writes of sections as well as my beta keeps me from going astray.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! ♥


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